


Hit That Boom

by Syntaria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dean's a little shit, Gen, Gender Identity, Humour, Ron's an overprotective brother, Sex Education, Sexual Identity, brief pairings mentioned but nothing is really central, general embarassment, hermione hits them if it helps, minor character bingo, or at least attempts at it, sex ed, some transphobic and homophobic attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntaria/pseuds/Syntaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry had faced more than his fair share of trials while attending Hogwarts in the past five years. He had come face to face with Voldemort three times, had fought and killed a basilisk, lead his fellow students in a secret society to teach themselves something worthwhile in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and had fought against a handful of Death Eaters. </p><p>So when he spotted the notice on the board in the Gryffindor common room that all fifth, sixth and seventh years were to attend a mandatory seminar on sex education, he was proud to say he only paled a little bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit That Boom

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the beginning of Harry's sixth year, mostly canon compliant, just for fun. Enjoy!

Poppy Pomfrey had never been one to bite her tongue when it came to the well being of her charges. She had been matron to the school for many years and in that time had patched up numerous broken bones, gave Pepper-Up and Dreamless Sleep to countless students working themselves into hysterics over their looming exams, and had always maintained an open door policy for students who needed somebody to talk to about their home life, their worries and general anxieties of school life. Some found her care overbearing at times, particularly when she threatened to keep them in her infirmary during quidditch matches or Hogsmeade weekends, but everybody knew that no matter what, she truly had the best interest of her patients at heart. There was rarely a staff meeting that passed where she did not voice her displeasure in some of the mishaps that the students had while learning a new spell or practicing a new potion. 

So, when she strode into the staff room after dinner one day, it wasn't much of a surprise when she cleared her throat and declared, “I'm concerned about the children.”

There was a beat of silence as each of the teachers looked up to her, standing with her fists on her hips as she surveyed the room.

Minerva McGonagall was the first to respond, nodding in part to acknowledge her arrival and her words. “Yes Poppy, we all are. But you know as well as the rest of us that as safe as Hogwarts is,” she guessed at what was bothering all of them, “we can't exactly stop their parents from taking the students home.”

Pomona Sprout nodded solemnly. It was most recently Hannah Abbott who had been told that her mother had been killed, having been taken out of Sprout's own class to be told. As head of Hufflepuff house, she had wanted nothing more than to gather her young badger in her arms and shield her from anymore trauma that the world might throw at her. Instead she had quietly helped her pack most of her belongings, while Susan Bones had held the girl and let her cry.

Poppy's frown seemed to deepen, and her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, but she shook her head. “I understand that. However, that is not what I'm most concerned about at the moment.”

“What is it then?” Severus Snape sneered, “Have too many students caught cold? Longbottom sprained his ankle on the staircases again?”

Poppy narrowed her eyes and huffed, “Most recently, a Slytherin boy with genital warts, actually.”

The staff room went silent, safe for Horace Slughorn's sputters as he chocked on a piece of candied pineapple. Rolanda Hooch appeared to be fighting back a laugh, covering her mouth and turning her head away from Severus' direction. For his part, Severus had begun to look a little murderous. 

“Which imbecile--”

“I've always considered the condition itself to be punishment enough, Severus,” Poppy cut him off, completely ignoring his glower, “and have likewise always made a point of keeping the identities of the afflicted private. They need to know they can trust me. This is hardly the first time a student has come to me with such problems, and I highly doubt it will be the last. My concern,” she addressed this to the rest of the staff, “is that there's been a marked increase in how many students are coming to me with these ailments.”

Filius Flitwick pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “I suppose it's not too difficult to understand. They are young, and these are dark times.”

Poppy nodded, “There was a similar outbreak during his last reign.” She still refused to speak his name, though it was quite obvious who she spoke of.

Aurora Sinistra sniffed, “I'd rather they not make a habit of turning my classroom into their rendezvous point. I've had to triple the detection charms on the observatory, but Filch and the prefects never seem to catch them on time.”

“Yes, well,” Minerva's expression had turned quite stern as she turned towards Filius, Pomona and Severus, “as Heads of House, it falls to us to bring them in line. I'll call a House Meeting tonight.”

Pomona shook her head instantly, “For the entire house? My first years have enough troubles and worries without having to sit through something as embarrassing as 'the talk' so early. I'd sooner owl their parents to remind them that it is their duty to educate them on safe sex.”

Septima Vector clicked her tongue in disapproval. “That wouldn't exactly solve the situation as it stands now. I imagine we'd just get a deluge of howlers, and that's all anybody needs, wondering if the last time they'll hear their parents voices would be them screaming about herpes.”

“Oh, really, Septima,” Charity Burbage spoke up, “must you be so pessimistic?”

Bathsheda Babbling snorted awake from where she had been dozing. Dumbledore quietly refilled her tea with a wave of his hand, and over her murmured thank you, he firmly cleared his throat when Septima and Charity began to squabble. “May I ask, Poppy, what year the youngest of your...impacted...wards has been?”

“So far nobody below fifth year has come forward, Headmaster.”

“Hardly a surprise,” Severus regained his voice, scowling at nobody in particular. “The hormonal fools can barely concentrate on their schoolwork, always batting eyes and passing notes clear across the classroom. Not an ounce of discretion among the lot of them.”

“I should think,” Dumbledore cheerfully interrupted, “that we're all educated enough to think of a solution. I suggest the prefects remain focused on their rounds as they are, and the teachers on patrol duty take it upon themselves to check the more secretive parts of the school. I'm sure,” and he smiled, eyes twinkling merrily, “that you all remember these spots from your own youth.”

Filius found the ceiling suddenly very interesting and Septima turned a bright red. Severus scowled fiercely, and Rolanda didn't bother trying to cover her laugh this time. 

“I was hoping,” Poppy brought their attention back to her, “that we could hold some sort of seminar for the students. Not for the younger dears,” she nodded when Pomona opened her mouth, “although I've had one come in the other day crying because nobody had ever told her about her period, poor thing thought she was dying. I'm not sure we can entrust all the parents with educating their children about their own bodies, in all honesty.”

Horace cleared his throat, “I had thought that the third years received a basic crash course on puberty these days?”

“Puberty, yes, and stories meant to scare them into abstinence until marriage.” Poppy clucked her tongue, shaking her head as she explained. “The changes in their bodies, at what age it's considered acceptable to form a family, and the general way pregnancy can be avoided. I've only been slotted an hour with each House to teach it, and then I'm afraid most of the students are so embarrassed I can't be sure they're truly paying attention. 

“Given the problems that keep walking into my infirmary, I feel it's imperative that a more detailed seminar be held as soon as possible. I've already contacted the school board about updating the curriculum, and advised them to allow more class time be dedicated to the subject in order to avoid this mess in the future generation. As it stands, I'm worried that one of the students may contract a less curable affliction.”

Horace fidgeted in his seat, but Filius nodded his agreement, and slowly the rest of the professors agreed. “Oh, well yes of course,” Horace stammered, “it is for the safety of the students after all. I'll be sure to draft a letter to my contacts on the board immediately, advise them to hurry along the process.”

Minerva arched an eyebrow, but Dumbledore raised a placating hand to stop her. “Fret not, Horace, I'll have an additional owl sent tonight to show my support to this decision. Poppy is right, this is of grave importance to the students.”

“Presuming they agree to the changes without sending some daft ministry agent again,” Sinistra spoke up, “who should head this little seminar? Poppy, obviously, but anybody else?”

Charity volunteered immediately, saying “it would do some good to prove that muggles have handled similar crisis' with dignity.” Rolanda volunteered mostly because she thought it would be funny to watch the students squirm.

\--

Harry had faced more than his fair share of trials while attending Hogwarts for the past five years. He had come face to face with Voldemort three times, had fought and killed a basilisk, lead his fellow students in a secret society to teach themselves something worthwhile in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and had fought against a handful of Death Eaters. Although he had been cursed to draw attention like moths to a flame, he liked to think he had kept a mostly steady head and avoided trouble when he could. He had navigated the stress of adolescence fairly well, thank you very much. After all, he'd made it through the stress of the Yule Ball with minimal damage, and despite the disastrous end to his relationship with Cho Chang, he had managed the rest of it fairly well. 

So when he spotted the notice on the board in the Gryffindor common room that all fifth, sixth and seventh years were to attend a mandatory seminar on sex education, he was proud to say he only paled a little bit.

“Didn't we already do this?” Neville Longbottom asked the room at large, “back in third year?” 

Ron was incredulous, his ears burning as he started to rant. “It was horrible. Like it wasn't bad enough when mum tried talking about it, now we have to sit through the Professors' again? Oh Merlin,” he turned to Harry, pale expression of horror in place, “who's gong to be teaching it? If McGonagall gets up and starts talking about our bits, I might jump out the tower.”

Ginny had walked over to the board as well, drawn by the fuss, and was looking at the other notices. Harry tried very hard not to react to her presence, and safe for a twitch in his left hand, felt himself very successful. 

“It's probably just Madame Pomfrey again,” she was saying. “Hmm...looks like we all have to stick around after breakfast...on a Saturday?”

Hermione frowned, “That's going to cut into my Ancient Runes review.”

Ron looked at the both of them, horrified. “We have to waste a perfectly relaxing Saturday morning listening to a bunch of positively ancient professors talk to us about the bloody birds and the bees, and you're worried about your review?!”

Hermione rolled her eyes, sighing at Ron's dramatics. Behind her, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil began to giggle uncontrollably. Lavender was trying to catch Ron's eyes, but it didn't seem to be working. Harry noticed that Collin Creevy sat near the fireplace staring into the empty hearth as his younger brother, Denis, seemed to be switching between laughing at and comforting him. 

“And you,” Ron focused on Ginny, “why are you so calm about this?”

“Why are you so upset about it?” Ginny had taken a smaller notice off of the board and was examining it closely. “Huh. I think somebody found one of Luna's shoes.” She turned away, brushing off Ron's indignant splutters without a backwards glance and headed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Harry tried to pretend that he didn't watch her, and gave a guilty jolt when he heard Dean Thomas laughing at something Seamus Finnegan had said. 

Ron instantly zeroed in on him. Dean saw the fury in his face and glanced at Harry and Hermione, seeking some clue about what he could have possibly done. Harry shrugged and watched, perplexed, as Ron stomped towards Dean. As Ron immediately demanded to know about the status of his relationship with his baby sister, questioning why the bloody hell she was so blase about sex and what Dean and she had been getting up to, Harry was suddenly very interested in what Dean had to say. 

Dean held up his hands, hoping to placate Ron's rage, and took small steps back as Ron's questions began to become even more irate. “Calm down, calm down,” he urged the other boy, and Seamus tried to place a relaxing hand on Ron's shoulders, but this only seemed to irritate him further. Dean quickly ducked behind a plush arm chair when Ron seemed to raise his hands in a strangling gesture.

Gryffindors were known for their bravery, often mocked for being reckless and perhaps a little on the stupid side as a result. Dean Thomas, however, knew how to pick his battles. Rather than risk a rankled Ginny finding out he discussed their relationship with her older brother, he ran for the portrait and away from the situation. 

Ron swore loudly and tore after him. 

Harry considered following, perhaps helping in the interrogation, but Hermione had grabbed him by the neck of his robes and dragged him towards her preferred study table near the tower window. “You,” she was quick to inform him, “have a Defense essay to finish, and I'm sure Ginny wouldn't want to find out you helped torture her boyfriend.”

\--

Breakfast that Saturday was not the horrid affair Harry would have expected it to be. On the contrary, it seemed to be almost jubilant. The seventh years had been making jokes almost nonstop since the notice had been distributed, waggling their eyebrows and making eyes at one another. Most of the fifth and sixth years had reacted the same way after the initial shock of the announcement, though a few seemed paranoid about what was going to happen. Quite a few students had chosen to act as though nothing had been announced, and even more had taken on an exasperated attitude. They loudly proclaimed to anybody who could be bothered to listen that they had all the answers they needed from worldly experience (and, the quietly admitted only to their best mates, rather uncomfortable conversations with their parents and older siblings).

Dean Thomas had made it a hobby of sorts to sing a few verses from some dirty muggle song, calling out “Lemme here you say way-ooh!”, and then ducking Ron's flails, even as Terry Boot would call back “way-ooh!” if he was around. Harry was torn between laughing at his baiting, and clobbering the boy himself. 

Most of the jubilation actually came from the fourth years and below. For a few glorious hours they would have free reign of the castle and the grounds on a beautiful autumn day. It was still warm enough outside to enjoy the air, still early enough in the semester that they didn't have to waste the day on homework. Best of all, they relished in the fact that they would not have to suffer through the embarrassment that their fellow students were about to endure.

The fact that the third years had their own mandatory lesson scheduled for later in the semester was willfully ignored.

As breakfast drew to a close and the older students mingled at their tables, a few daring fourth years jeered as they left the great hall. They lingered at the doors to makes face at their upper classmates until McGonagall had cleared her throat and invited those students to stay for the remedial education. Her threat had them scattering, and a few straggling first years hurried away from the tables and out of the hall, the remnants of their breakfasts abandoned. 

Snape glowered at the hall as he stood, and Harry was surprised to see the Slytherins left in the hall wince almost in unison under his dark gaze. He had never seen the former potion's professor take out any of his moods on the members of his house, and he was most curious. Malfoy alone seemed uninterested, situated as usual between the hulking forms of Crabbe and Goyle (who, strangely enough, was slightly red in the face. Harry presumed he had choked on something).

“Oh no,” Neville whispered in horror, “don't tell me it's Snape who's going to teach us.”

Ron had gone so pale Harry fancied he could count each of his freckles. Looking up at the head table, he breathed an audible sigh of relief when it was clear that Snape was not staying. In fact, to Harry's surprise, it didn't appear as though any of the Heads of House were staying. 

“It's possible they've gone to their rooms to collect class materials,” Hermione piped up for the first time since sharing the news of the prophet (one identified dead wizard in London, though with no Dark Mark present, it was unclear if it was the work of Voldemort or his Death Eaters). 

“Have you ever known McGonagall to show up to a lesson unprepared?” Ginny asked, a sly smile in place. 

A sharp and familiar whistle soon brought the attention of the students back to the front, where Madame Hooch stood with her hands firmly planted on her hips. “Well, don't dilly-dally then, up out of your seats.” Behind her, the Muggle Studies Professor, Charity Burbage, was placing a variety of pamphlets on one end of the high table, and Madame Pomfrey was setting up the old projector that they sometimes used in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Argus Filtch was dragging a large blackboard into position.

The students rose from their benches and moved to the front of the hall at Hooch's insistence. She waved her wand and the House tables had stacked themselves neatly to the side, much like they had the Night of the Great Sleepover in third year. With another wave, she had conjured row upon row of plush cushions, a dusty purple in colour. She nodded, satisfied, and immediately shooed the assembled students to sit down. 

There was a mad scramble for the fluffiest looking ones from all the houses. Millicent Bulstrode ripped hers out of Ernie Macmillan's hands, scowling the entire time. Luna Lovegood had made her way over to Ginny, following the other girl's beckons, and Harry noted that the two of them had found rather decently sized cushions. His own was a little flat, but comfortable enough when seated. The annoying part was making sure you had enough elbow room, which was made infinitely more difficult by some people's desire to take the lesson while laying down. 

Harry was fairly sure he saw Mandy Brocklehurst push Stephen Cornfoot across the floor after he'd stretched out and nearly hit her with his foot. Eddie Carmicheal earned a sharp rap on the head from Madame Hooch when he tried to invite Katie Bell to sit on his lap to save space. 

Hermione tutted over the chaos and tucked herself between Harry and Parvati. She pulled out a sheath of parchment and was trying to use one of her her books as a makeshift table, precariously balancing a pot of ink in the crook of her legs. Ron asked her why on earth she was going to be taking notes, “it's not as if we're going to have a test on this!”, but she simply ignored him. 

There was another sharp blow of the whistle, followed by Professor Burbage's rather loud clap of her hands. Madame Pomfrey was already going around the rows, and Harry thought he could hear her muttering about bad posture and spine issues. He tried to sit straighter when she walked by, apparently making a headcount. 

“Welcome!” Professor Burbage started. “For those of you who don't know me, I'm Professor Burbage and I teach Muggle Studies.” 

Harry knew he wasn't the only one who noticed some of the Slytherins rolling their eyes, but found himself narrowing his own at the harsh whispers popping up from a small group of Ravenclaw seventh years. 

Professor Burbage simply spoke over the noise, “Now, I know you've all seen the notices in your common rooms, and have probably been wondering why we've called this seminar. It's come to our attention that there has been an increase in unsafe sex here at Hogwarts, and we're here to remind you all of why that's a problem not just for us as your Professors, and in essence your temporary guardians, but for you as individuals.”

Marietta Edgecomb had turned scarlet from where she, Cho Chang and Micheal Corner had taken up residence. Harper, a Slytherin from Ginny's year, had started to snicker behind his hands.

“We all know you have sex,” Hooch spoke with the blunt fierceness she did anything else, but she faltered when Poppy immediately turned to her with a stern look. “Oh, well, fine, that most of you have sex. Maybe some of you aren't interested,” and here she could only shrug when some students began to laugh, which had Poppy scowling at them instead, an unfamiliar expression on the school matron. 

“Have I mentioned,” Professor Burbage cut in, a strained smile on her face, “that while we're here there's a few rules? We don't laugh at anybody being perhaps the biggest one.” She waited for the snickers to fade away, before going on to explain that she wanted the hall to be a safe place of expression, that there were no stupid questions, and Harry began to tune her out after she repeated for what seemed the fifth time that she knew how confusing this all could be. He didn't see how. Embarrassing, yes, but compared to the mysteries of girls' behaviour on a day to day basis, he always fancied that the idea of sex itself was fairly straight forward. 

Hermione dug her elbow sharply into his side to bring his attention back to the Professors. He glared at her halfheartedly and rubbed at the spot, even as he focused his hearing again. 

Madame Pomfrey had turned her back to write on the blackboard that she'd had Filch bring in when they were setting up for the seminar. She had dove head first into the lesson after Professor Burbage had established the rules, and wasted no time in writing out the incantation to a basic contraceptive charm. She also drew two diagrams of wand movements on the board, indicating that one was to be used by those with “male anatomy” and the other was to be used by those with “female anatomy”. She followed up with a lubricating charm, and was cheerfully explaining to the students at large that her door was always open if they ever needed a reminder on how to cast them.

There was a small deal of goodhearted ribbing throughout the assembled students, particularly aimed at those foolish enough to sit with somebody the school knew they were dating. Professor Burbage tutted and reminded them that this was a safe space, again. Harry rather thought she was fighting a losing battle, as he could feel his own laughter help him relax, as embarrassing as the topics were.

The only couple not to show much of a reaction to this teasing was a Slytherin duo from their year. Theodore Nott had a glazed look about his face, and there was a slump about his posture, but that had been there for a good twenty minutes already. His girlfriend Daphne Greengrass eventually started to poke him repeatedly in the chest until he sat up straight. Justin Finch-Fletchley was whispering to some of his friends that Nott was actually capable of sleeping with his eyes open, as he sometimes dozed off in History of Magic, a class that the Slytherin and Hufflepuff students had shared for years. 

Madame Hooch had zeroed in on his sleepy blink and asked him to demonstrate the proper wand movements to the contraceptive charm. He shrugged carelessly and did so with ease, not even glancing at the board in front of them. The other members of Slytherin house snickered quietly among themselves. Blaise Zabini waggled his eyebrows at Nott, and Harry saw Pansy Parkinson lean forward to whisper something in Greengrass' ear, but the girl only tossed her hair behind her shoulder in response. 

“If for whatever reason you are not confident in either of these spells,” Professor Burbage started the lesson again, as she paced in front of the students, “and you shouldn't be ashamed if you are, for mistakes can happen, there are other methods of protection that you can use. Indeed, even with the contraceptive charms, I would recommend you use these,” and she held up two brightly coloured squares, “whenever you engage in penetrative intercourse of any kind.”

Harry watched in a sort of horrified fascination as she ripped the first package open and hold up a clear rubber. He could feel his eyes widening as she did the same to the next package, and explained how some preferred the use of the female condom, and the pros and cons of each of them.

“They put rubber on their bits?” Ron raised his eyebrows incredulously, his voice just loud enough to be heard by the handful of students around them.

“Better than sheep skin, like they used to be made of,” Anthony Goldstein quipped. Ron stared at him, as if he couldn't tell if he were joking or not.

Neville seemed to be trying to will himself invisible, hands covering his eyes and face radiating heat from how hard he was blushing. At the front of the class, Madame Hooch was biting her lip to keep from howling at the expressions of the students as Charity Burbage demonstrated the proper application of a male condom onto a banana. Harry doubted he would be able to look at the fruit the same way ever again, and figured himself lucky she didn't seem to know how to demonstrate the application of a female condom. From what she described to the girls, it seemed difficult. He ignored the speculative noises Hermione made next to him, and in fact was trying his best to avoid eye contact with any of the girls in the hall. Some of them had seem to come down with bouts of uncontrollable giggling.

“Alright you lot, any questions so far?” Madame Hooch finally took pity on them, waving her hands to encourage Professor Burbage to put the banana away.

Sue Li had raised her hand, “To my understanding, muggles have a form of prophylactic that many women use to help regulate their monthlies. I was wondering if it would be at all possible to discuss any charms or potions of a similar nature, and if we have to contact a healer such as Madame Pomfrey, or somebody at St Mungo’s, perhaps.”

“Hold up,” Megan Jones spoke before the professors could respond, “muggles have a way to do that? Why the bloody hell haven't we, then?”

“Language,” was the immediate reprimand from Madame Pomfrey, “and it's not really a prophylactic in and of itself. Remember that those are meant to stop the infection or spread of disease, like the condoms Professor Burbage has shown. However, yes, there has been some work in potions that could help achieve the same effect as muggle Birth Control Pills. It can be dangerous, however, as any improperly made potion can, so most witches who use it go to St Mungo's for monthly doses.”

“Why not just use the muggle pill?” Marcus Belby asked, tilting his head.

“There has been some concern that muggle medicine would react badly with the magic in a witch's system, although there hasn't been enough research to prove or disprove this theory.”

“I have not noticed any abnormal effects,” Hermione offered to the group at large, turning pink as heads swiveled to look at her. Cormac McLaggan was leering at her, and even Malfoy had a curious curl to his normal sneer. Harry and Ron took it upon themselves to scowl rather fiercely at any of the boys looking a little too closely, Ron's ears a bright red again. 

Professor Burbage had cheerfully begun to explain how birth control pills were supposed to work, and how muggle women would normally obtain them. Parvati waited until the professors had turned to some fifth year's question about the effectiveness of the potion alternative, before pulling Hermione closer to her side. Lavender Brown and a few other Gryffindor girls leaned in, and they immediately started to whisper questions of their own at her. 

Hermione eventually heaved a great sigh and begged off, promising them (as well as a group of curious Hufflepuff seventh years who had been nearby) that she would explain everything she knew about getting a prescription after the seminar, and would they please let her focus on her notes now? Some of the other muggleborn girls were receiving similar attention from their friends.

“The reason I recommend the use of condoms,” Professor Burbage continued at the front of the hall, “is also because there has not yet been an effective spell or potion created to combat the spread of sexually transmitted infections or diseases, either magical or muggle in nature.” She nodded to Madame Hooch, who flicked her wand, and the ceiling was draped over so that while the hall was not completely dark, it was dimmer than it had been. 

The projector whirled to life then, and a series of slides of genitals began to flip in front of them.

There was a general outcry of laughter that quickly became of disgust, and Susan Bones buried her face in her hands and absolutely refused to look up again after the first slide of a penis with thick yellow discharge. Morag MacDougal made an audible retching sound, which set Fay Dunbar into a fit of quiet giggles for some reason. Heedless to these reactions, or most likely just ignoring them, Madame Pomfrey began to explain which each of the pictures were of, how they were spread, and other symptoms to be wary of for each. 

“Oh my god make it stop,” Terry Boot whispered, even though he kept his gaze in a horrified fascination at the slides flashing from the projector. Tracey Davis was peeking out between her fingers, covering them when the more graphic pictures appeared, which Harry could hardly blame her for doing. He heaved a great sigh of relief when the slides started to show the microscopic view of bacteria instead. Tracey lowered her hands carefully then, and taking in the names written under each of the pictures, she raised her hand. 

“Professor,” she asked when she was called on, “how do we know that they look like this?”

Professor Burbage briefly explained how muggle scientists and doctors had used microscopes to look at the bacteria (“micro-whats?” and she explained how they were a combination of telescopes and magnifying glasses, though most of the students grumbled that THEY knew that, “damn it all we're not stupid”. Overhearing that, she reminded them AGAIN that there were no stupid questions, and Madame Hooch once again took to smacking people in the head just to move the lesson along.

Justin Finch-Fletchley wondered aloud to Neville if anybody had developed a way to identify plants in Herbology on such a small scale, and Neville seemed glad for the distraction from the arguing going on in front of them.)

Meanwhile, Pomfrey had continued with the slides, moving on to the “less dangerous and painful” infections, some of which you apparently didn't even need to have sex to contract. 

Pansy Parkinson shrieked when the slide switched to show a close up of pubic lice. Ron looked like Christmas had come early when Pomfrey explained that they were sometimes called “crabs”, and Harry had to admit, of all the strange Wizarding family names, the Crabbe family now seemed like the least lucky. 

Perhaps in response to the laughter that was making Vincent Crabbe scowl into his lap and clench his hands into fists, the Slytherin crew drew into a closer knit group. 

“What use is this to us?” Malfoy drawled, “Those are all muggle infections. Everybody knows that our immune systems are superior, and even if some of the lower forms contract something really dangerous, our cures are incredibly more potent.”

“We've not even had anybody get that problem from the eighties,” Blaise Zabini agreed, one of his hands cradling his cheek as he sat with elbows resting on his knees. 

Hermione grew a thoughtful frown in response to this and there was a general murmur among a small group of Ravenclaw fifth years. Harry had no idea what Zabini was talking about. 

Professor Burbage, however, had started to speak. “Although true enough, Mister Malfoy, not quite right. The majority of wizarding immune systems are superior to those of our muggle neighbours due in part to our magic, and in part out of necessity of exposure to magical herbs, fungi and creatures. But we share some base weaknesses as well; allergies, for instance, or our susceptibility to colds. Although unusual, it is completely possible to contract muggle STDs, which is why we're teaching you all about them. I've always maintained that it would behoove the magical community to educate themselves on all things muggle so as not to be taken by surprise on any level. Supposing that one of you developed a sexual relationship with a muggle,” and she valiantly ignored the wrinkled noses of Goyle and Parkinson, not to mention Malfoy's customary sneer, “they would expect you to know about the risk of these infections and the proper contraceptives. Furthermore, many of the ailments passed through unsafe sex in the magical community have base similarities to that of our muggle neighbours.”

Madame Pomfrey took that as her cue to transition into a series of magical maladies that had Harry contemplating a life of celibacy. Seamus Finnegan gave an enormous wince and made a half-aborted movement as if to clutch himself when she described the puss leaking boils that developed with herpes in contact with magical blood. 

The pictures made it worse.

Leanne, a friend of Katie Bell's, was quietly crying into her hands out of sheer embarrassment from the slides from the back of the group. Cho Chang had offered the girl her hand in solidarity and was glaring fiercely at anybody who looked back at her. Harry himself quickly looked away, because crying girls still made him feel quite awkward. 

After what seemed like ages, the slides came to an end, and with a clap of Burbage's hands, the hall was filled with the bright Saturday sun again.

“Well,” Pomfrey looked out at the sea of students, “are there any questions?”

There was silence but for the fidgeting of a few students, some cracking their backs which had gone a bit stiff from sitting so long. As the silence stretched, Susan Bones looked around her, before slowly raising her hand.

“Near the beginning of the lecture,” she spoke nervously, halting when people groaned but clearing her throat and continuing, “instead of saying 'boy' or 'girl', you kept specifying anatomy. And, er, I was just wondering...why?”

“That is because it's important to remember not everybody identifies as a boy or a girl.” At the confused noises this elicited, Pomfrey turned back to the blackboard and tapped it with her wand. the old diagrams were cleared away, and she began to explain gender and sexual identities. Harry stared, and he saw out of the corner of her eyes the way Hermione's quill started racing across her parchment. It seemed that not even she had known about these differences, he was relieved to note. 

How she had the ability to stretch her arm behind him and smack at Ron when he incredulously asked Harry what would drive a bloke to feel the need to dress like a woman, while still taking detailed notes, Harry would forever wonder. Ron, for his part, rubbed at his arm and muttered at her, "she said there's no stupid questions!" But Madame Hooch had zeroed in on the whispered squabble, and with her, she drew the attention of Professor Burbage. When brightly asked if they had anything to ask, Hermione leveled a glare at Ron, who sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I was just wondering, why would a bloke dress like a woman?" 

The quick lecture on trans identities versus drag culture that his comment caused, as brief as it was, left Harry's head spinning. Hermione's parchment was covered in a messy scrawl, and all around them, other students were pulling overwhelmed and confused faces, although some were smiling and nodding as if to themselves. Tracey Davies was whispering something into Anthony Goldstein's ear which made him turn pink. Ron shot a somewhat smug look at Hermione.

Padma Patil raised her hand when the professors again asked if there were anymore questions. “Supposing an individual did not experience sexual attraction to anyone, regardless of gender expression or identity on their part or on another's...would that mean that there's something wrong with that person?” 

Before anybody else could comment, Luna looked up from where she had been doodling on her own arm. Her voice maintained its usual dreamy tone that had would have Harry wondering if she were truly paying attention if not for the words themselves.

“There's nothing wrong with not feeling attracted to people. It's called asexuality. Don't worry, you're just as normal as I am.”

Padma blinked, flushed, and quickly responded, “No no, Luna, we're nothing alike. I still fancy people, I just don't...” and she trailed off, frustrated that she didn't have the right words and seemingly embarrassed for revealing her lack of attraction in people. Parvati seemed to be trying to reach her sister's gaze, and Micheal Corner looked as if he had finally pieced together a rather difficult puzzle. Luna simply continued to look at her, gaze wide-eyed but focused, and she smiled reassuringly.

“I don't either. But if you don't think you're like me, you could be grey-sexual, or demisexual. Don't worry. It's not my place to tell anybody. I know you like books, maybe they can tell you with words you like.” And she looked back down to her arm, the matter settled. “My father likes it when I draw. Have you ever tried?”

Ginny was grinning at the girl next to her and patted her on the back. Luna merely added a twirling line to her drawing.

Madame Pomfrey was smiling gently at Padma, but addressed the room as a whole and quickly drew the attention of the students away from the two girls. She started to expand on her explanation of the various sexualities as she understood them. “It's important to remember that they can be fluid, meaning that they might change throughout your life. As confusing as I'm sure this can be, it is completely normal, and if you ever have any questions, my door is always open.”

Harry wished he had remember her open door policy during fourth year, although he admitted to himself that he probably wouldn't have gone to her. But he mouthed the word "bisexual" to himself all the same, turning things over in his head as she continued to explain the differences between romantic and sexual attractions, and how people sort of matched these attributes among themselves. He hadn't even told Hermione or Sirius about the tightening in his chest when he watched not only Cho Chang, but Cedric Diggory as well.

“It's a lot different in the muggle world,” Collin Creevy was saying, “my mom used to talk about that kind of stuff. She always said there's nothing wrong with a bloke liking a bloke, and she smacked my uncle whenever he called somebody a 'poofter'. ” Seamus scowled darkly at the word, and Collin mouthed 'sorry' at him, even as Professor Burbage was quick to say that such language was not to be uttered in this safe space.

Zacharias Smith snorted, loudly interjecting, “It's not all sunshine and daisies in the magical community either. It's rather hard to keep the bloodlines going if the lads and lasses would rather sleep with their own than with the opposite sex.” 

Millicent Bulstrode scowled across the room at him, even as Hermione rolled her eyes, “If they insist on intermarrying the way they have, I'd wager the bloodlines have more important things to worry about. From a genealogical perspective, statistics don't lie: the pureblood community has been generating more and more squibs as the years go on.”

Zacharias merely shrugged, “It's considered better to risk producing a squib than dilute the blood, Granger.”

Malfoy muttered something quietly under his breath, and Zabini glanced at him with a curious expression, but Harry was quickly distracted by Hermione's deep breath, which was indicative of her gearing up for quite a lecture. Ron was frowning on his other side, and Harry couldn't help but sigh; it wasn't often this topic came up between them, but Harry knew that even if Ron didn't think less of anybody for their blood status, sometimes Hermione's comments insulted him because she inadvertently insulted his family. Harry didn't know if Hermione had forgotten that even the Weasley's didn't make much of an effort to keep their squib cousin in the family, but he did not want to get in the middle of another argument this year. 

“We are getting off topic,” Madame Hooch reprimanded sharply, and Hermione visibly restrained herself from continuing the conversation. On his other side, Ron remained a little tense, but slowly seemed to relax as Professor Burbage answered a few tentative questions about muggle based advances in medicines, and a fifth year Ravenclaw who asked what “that problem from the eighties” referred to. 

Near the end of her explanation about AIDS and HIV, and how the majority of the magical community would most likely not have to fear this disease due to the aforementioned immune system that Malfoy mentioned (“but that does not mean you should be careless, because it is entirely possible that the virus could mutate into something unique to the wizarding community, like muggle influenza has developed into Black Cat Flu”), the sound of the doors creaking open had everybody jumping in surprise and turning their heads.

Professor McGonagall arched her brow when she poked her head in the door and noticed she already had the entire hall's attention. “My apologies,” she nodded to her colleagues, “but I'm afraid that the headmaster has advised you bring this lecture to a close. As enthralled as you all have been in the topic, I'm sure, it's been nearly three hours, and the rest of the students will need the hall restored in time for lunch.”

There was a general murmur among the students, and Madame Hooch glanced up at the ceiling to see where the sun was positioned in the sky even as Madame Pomfrey cast a quick _tempus_ spell, confirming that it was just shy of eleven o'clock. “Alright,” Hooch nodded her head briskly, “that's enough for today I'm sure. Everybody up, form a queue and take a pamphlet.” Barely giving the student s chance to finish standing, she waved her wand and the cushions they'd all been resting on disappeared.

Madame Pomfrey was clucking her tongue at the way some of the students were trying to stretch the kinks out of their necks and backs, while Madame Hooch helped move some of the slower students into line while Professor Burbage stood by the pamphlets and ensured that everybody took one of each. There didn't appear to be anything about them that the lengthy seminar hadn't covered, but she insisted that they take them, so Harry shrugged and pocketed the three. Hermione seemed particularly interested in the one on gender expression, “because it's quite fascinating Harry, really, and it'd be a good starting point for further research” (and Harry privately agreed with Ron that she was being barmy, because who had the time for extra research when they had so much homework for their NEWT classes?). Harry didn't get a chance to talk with Hermione anymore after that, though, for she was quickly grabbed up by Parvati, Lavender, and a gaggle of other girls who she'd promised to talk to about birth control pills. 

Shrugging his shoulders and scratching the back of his head, he turned to Ron. “Fancy a bit of flying?”

Ron agreed quickly, “We need a bit of fun to get over that mess. I wanna know what git messed up and forced the lot of us through it. I mean, those pictures.” They both gave great, heaving shudders at the memory. 

Together they moved out of the Great Hall and out onto the grounds, desperate to fly and banish the worst of the sex education from their minds. 

At least, they were until Dean and Seamus ran by, singing “dim the light then lock the room, cause now it's time for me to hit that boom.” Then, ears turning red again, Ron screamed in outrage and quickly ran after the positively howling pair, Harry only half a step behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired in part to the question of "what's sex ed like at Hogwarts?" and "how the hell did Draco know the Muggle Studies professor, anyway?"
> 
> The song Dean Thomas sings is called Boom Boom Boom, by The Outhere Brothers. I tried finding a suitable song from the right time period in the UK, and this song was apparently released in 1995; as the fic takes place in the late years of 1996, I figured that would work best. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WqHQ_wWbG9Y
> 
> For those wondering about the timing, I'd set this near the end of September, or the beginning of October. By that time, both Eloise Midgeon (not mentioned in the fic for this reason) and Hannah Abbott have been withdrawn from school, but Katie Bell has not been gifted the cursed necklace to take to Dumbledore yet. This is also why Pomfrey is so worried about the students--a little early in the year of STDs to be popping up. (Yes, the Slytherin student with genital warts was Goyle, which was why he in particular was so embarrassed when Snape was scowling at his students)
> 
> Yes, I did include hints of Draco having a little bit of a thing for Hermione, and I'm not even a little sorry. And yes, you are supposed to take from this that Seamus Finnigan is gay, and that Millicent Bulstrode is a lesbian.
> 
> Bi!Harry is the only Harry, sorry not sorry.
> 
> This work has not been beta read or brit-picked, so if you spot any glaring errors, please feel free to let me know. I hope you enjoyed reading this!


End file.
